


Anecdotal Evidence

by Etheostoma



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Here Have Some More, Missing Scenes, Post Season 3, Stricklake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etheostoma/pseuds/Etheostoma
Summary: Missing scenes from Barbara and Walter's relationship throughout the course of and following Season 3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which we see just where Strickler and Nomura are during all of the fighting in the finale...

The world was on fire.

 Heat, red and blistering, rolled across the horizon, matching the tinted, eclipse-like hue of the darkness-cast sky. The sun was muted, almost as though concealed behind the lens of a warped glass, and the sky burned a bloody red. Crackling tongues of flame licked at the foundation of the hospital, a few of the more daring contenders jumping up toward the second story windows to skate along brick and wood. The once-pristine, manicured lawn was nothing but charred ash, the few remaining trees smoldering stumps along the curb of the parking lot.

And, amid it all marched an army of angry trolls.

Barbara stood at her sixth-story window, leaning on the frame with one hand as she gazed out at the destruction below. Tears streamed down her face, unheeded, as she watched those unfortunate enough to be caught unawares cut down as they tried to flee the oncoming storm. She couldn’t afford to acknowledge the fear that loomed over her, could not afford to lose her composer and allow her terror to manifest. Instead it lingered, lurking just out of sight, a dark shadowy specter omnipresent but never seen.

Jim was out there somewhere, fighting for his life and the lives of everyone in the city. Her son, the hero, her knight in shining armor risking it all to save hundreds of people who didn't even know he existed, had no idea of what he had already sacrificed. He was the best hope they had against Gunmar and his horde—and the best hope was often the most heavily targeted.

She pressed her knuckles to her lips, hand shaking, biting back the surge of maternal worry that gnawed at her core. She had absolute faith in Jim,  _had_ to believe he would be triumphant, would return to her in once piece with the enemies vanquished and the potential for some modicum of a normal life in his future.

A sharp call caught her attention and she jerked, turning her gaze back out across the red horizon. 

Massive trolls lumbered down the road, their eyes glowing a ghastly green as they barreled along in a mindless rage. Humans and trolls alike were cut down as they stumbled into their path, their screams dying with them as they fell limply to the pavement. Barbara could only hope that the kids had gotten the majority of the town barricaded in the school, where they could be protected by the bulk of Jim’s friends. As it was, refugees flooded the hospital, streaming through the doors in an unchecked flood of bodies. Though, if the onslaught below continued, they would soon have to barricade the doors. 

The few brave trolls from Trollmarket below were putting up a valiant fight, beating back the oncoming assault in a frantic attempt to protect the hospital and the refugees streaming through its doors--but they were far outnumbered, and were being battered back against the brick as the Gumm-Gumm's advanced.  

Sirens wailed in the distance, shrieking out a desperate call from those first responders brave enough to be out in the field. The final surge of bodies streamed into the hospital seeking refuge from the slaughter outside, and Barbara watched as the electronic locks were set in place and the hospital armed. 

"That's my cue," she murmured.

Mouth set in determination, she dove into the chaos in a frenzy, working with fierce determination as she stitched and sewed and bandaged, offering comfort where it would be accepted and silent care where it would not. All the while, her heart hammered in her chest, charged on adrenaline borne of the surrounding chaos, the deep-seated fear that she would never see her son again devouring her from the inside out.

“Come on, Jim,” she murmured softly, stripping off a pair of soiled surgical gloves and dropping them in the waiting bin. “Come back to me in one piece.” A particularly ambitious Gumm-Gumm chose that moment to launch himself at the window, snarling and hammering at the glass. Barbara shrieked, leaping back, eyes darting around the room as she looked for something to use as a weapon.

The window was thick, reinforced glass, but even a barrier meant to block bullets was no match for a troll in a full fury, and Barbara knew it would only be a matter of time until he shattered the barrier between them. Suddenly, the troll let out an anguished howl, the light in his eyes extinguishing and his body rippling as it dulled and died, setting into a colorless statue that shattered into countless fragments as soon as it smashed into the ground below. Barbara caught a glimpse of a dark figure barreling through the sky, eyes gleaming yellow against the unnatural twilight.

“Are you alright?” Walter called, his gravelly voice just barely penetrating the glass.

She broke out into a relieved smile, legs turning to jelly as the residual adrenaline leached from her body. Offering him a shaky thumbs up, she nodded and mouthed an emphatic _Thank you_ as Walter swooped by her window. He turned one lower incisor up in the semblance of a smile and then banked hard, diving down to join Nomura on the ground.

 The duo fought deliberately, each move calculated and precise, perfectly in tandem with one another. Barbara had to tamp down an irrational surge of jealousy at how in sync the two Changelings were with each other. She knew it was an ease borne of long familiarity, and Walter had confessed to her on a few different occasions that Nomura was the closest thing he had to family—but in a strange way Barbara still felt let out, stuck upstairs “minding the house” while the other two took care of business down below. 

Rationally, she knew she was being ridiculous—she was a doctor, groomed to _save_ lives, not take them. She was doing far more good in the hospital than she could ever do on a battlefield.

“Yes!” she cheered, punching the air as Walter and Nomura tag-teamed a trio of trolls, executing a neat feint and obliterating all three in a swift series of blows.

“Dr. Lake?” the urgent voice from her elbow ripped her out of her observations, sending her spiraling back to reality with an unpleasant jolt. 

“Yes?” she replied, slipping back in to her professional role. 

“We need you in the ER—the waiting room is full to capacity and we have to evacuate some of those beds as soon as we can.”

Barbara nodded, already moving toward the door, her mind moving to the immediate tasks at hand, pushing her glasses back up her nose before slipping through the door and hurrying down the hallway. The ER could have been a scene from any apocalyptic movie, whimpering bodies huddled in corners, troll and human blood staining the previously-pristine tile floor. People—trolls and humans alike—sat on waiting room benches and against walls, bruised and dirty and defeated, their eyes hollow and their hands shaking as they struggled to process the horrors from the world beyond. Women wailed, children screamed, and men sat disconsolate, heads cast down and eyes grim with looks of utter despair. These were people who had given up--and Barbara knew well and good that there was no room for defeat in a hospital—once you gave up, you were as good as dead.

 She dove into the fray, bending her mind to her discipline, applying her knowledge and patience and grace to any and all who needed her care. Minutes bled into each other and soon she had lost track of time, hair hanging limp with sweat against her brow as she fought for each and ever life to set before her. Distantly, she could hear a commotion in the lobby, her ears tuned to any sort of disturbance, and she checked her current patient before setting aside her gloves and rushing to the lobby. She burst through the doors just in time to see Walter barrel through the door a well-intended orderly had cracked, Nomura cradled in his arms. The hospital staff heaved the doors closed behind him, catching a Gumm-Gumm mid-leap and propelling it back out into the open air.

“Nomura!” Barbara gasped, sprinting over to Walter’s side to help him guide the other Changeling into the waiting room. “What happened?

The other woman bared her teeth in a pained grimace, her left hand pressed tightly to a large wound on her thigh, dark purple blood pulsing out between her fingers to stain her fuchsia skin. Stone skin was still skin, and blood ran beneath it the same as in humans—it just took a lot more force to find it in a troll. “Lucky hit,” Nomura hissed, leaning heavily on Walter’s left side as she limped toward a chair, collapsing into it with a groan. 

“But enough of a hit to leave you vulnerable,” Walter chided, his mouth set in a stern frown. “You will go down fighting or not at all,” he added, expression softening. “I’ll not have you struck down on my watch because you were too stubborn to see your wound.” 

Nomura opened her mouth to reply and then bit off her words with a grimace, luminous green eyes fluttering closed in pain. “Can you patch me up enough to fight?” she asked Barbara, leaning back against her seat. Walter frowned, clearly not wishing for her to put herself back out in the fray, and Nomura bared her teeth at him in response. "I'll do my part same as you, Stricklander," she declared, eyes narrowing. 

Already snapping on a pair of gloves, Barbara knelt by the Changeling and gingerly drew her hand away from the wound, fingers softly probing the rough edges, assessing the depth of the cut and the configuration of Nomura’s stony skin. “I can,” she said in reply to Nomura's earlier question, shooting a quick glance at Walter and studiously ignoring his disapproving glare before meeting Nomura’s determined gaze. “Let me just get you on to a gurney so I can see to this properly…”

Standing, she cast her glance around the room, blue eyes alighting on a free, fairly clean gurney in the corner by the doors to the ER. Weaving through the throngs of cowering mass of people, she grabbed it and steered it back over to their corner, smiling slightly as Walter offered Nomura a stony arm to use as a brace as she levered herself on top of the gurney.

Barbara drew them back into the corner, not even bothering to try to find a free room, and snapped on a clean pair of surgical gloves, retrieving a suture kit and a heavy-duty needle whose size and composition made Walter raise his eyebrows. “Is that—?”

“Diamond?” she finished, quirking an eyebrow in return. “You think I didn’t take advantage of having a considerably well-read troll _and_ a wizard in my house? I got as much information on how to care for wounded trolls--and changelings--as I could. Spackle in a pinch for the small stuff, human-style sutures with…hardier equipment for gashes that don’t instantly turn one into a statue, mud bath for sunburn.” Her lips quirked at the last, as it was not too far from a human-style remedy for the same malady.

“Glad to hear of your foresight,” Nomura ground out, “but would you mind getting this over with?” Her normally vibrant skin was quite a few shades lighter, and the hand she held clasped over the wound was now stained with violet blood.

Barbara nodded, eyes bright with sympathy, face set in professional determination, and set to her task. She couldn’t help but respect how the changeling barely trembled beneath the touch of the needle, the diamond sliding through stone skin like a knife through butter. Six, seven, eight, she kept track of the stitches as she worked, the numbers a steady cadence in her head as she sewed. Jaw set, she tried to contain her anger at the injustice of it all, her fear for her son and her esteem and care for those fighting alongside him a constant presence in her mind as she worked. It wasn't fair for these good people to be hurt and dying, or  _dea_ _d,_ wasn't fair for them all to be some pawns in a greater game, a war waged by two sorcerers with next to no thought given to those on the ground. Shaking her head, she pulled herself out of her maudlin thoughts, bent on her work.

“All done,” she murmured, at what seemed to be an eternity later. She applied a thick layer of sealant to the wound before wrapping a thick bandage around it, the white a stark contrast to Nomura’s fuchsia skin. 

"Thank you," the two Changelings said in unison, exchanging a startled look as their voices rang out. Despite the solemnity of the situation Barbara found herself giggling, for they both carried near identical looks of grudging respect and disdain, their mutual regard and disgust at actually showing  _emotion_ mirrored on their faces. 

A distant roar rang through the dull murmur of the room, cutting through any makings of a comfortable scene, and the trio could feel the foundation of the building shake beneath their feet, drywall cracking and a few ceiling panels crashing to the floor. Jerking to his feet from where he had moved to kneel by the gurney, Walter swept his wings out to shield the two women, the thick membranes catching the worst of the debris. He grunted, baring his teeth in a snarl as he bore the brunt of the impact. 

“Walt!” Barbara exclaimed as he straightened and shook himself, reaching up to grab his shoulder, “Are you alright?”

He nodded, hand raising to give hers a squeeze.

Suddenly, an unearthly howl echoed through the air. As one, the three turned with wide eyes to watch as the horde of trolls clustered outside turned to stone, skin crackling and solidifying before crumbling to crash to the ground in a pile of gravel.

 “He did it,” Walter said softly, cat-like eyes wide with disbelief. “He actually did it,” he murmured, fingers flexing in an unconscious move. Overcome, he bowed his horned head in a graceful arc, lowering it to rest the crest of his forehead on Barbara’s shoulder.

“What?” The doctor’s blue eyes blinked behind their frames. “What is it?” Unconsciously, her hand rose to trace the curve of Walter’s wing, trailing from stony skin to rough webbing in a soothing caress.

“Gunmar,” Nomura said, hopping from gurney to ground with a grimace and a blatant disregard for Barbara’s disapproving glare. She, too, wore a look of awed disbelief, the expression of a woman who had long since foregone hope only to have it explode before her in a kaleidoscope of color. “Jim defeated Gunmar.”

Barbara’s free hand flew to her mouth. “He did it,” she breathed, grip tightening on Walter’s shoulder as she mimicked his earlier words. Relief like she had never known surged through her then. “We need to go to him,” she declared abruptly, determination surging anew. 

“No!” Nomura exclaimed harshly, never once tearing her eyes from the horizon. “It’s still not over,” she added in a softer tone, eyes fraught with worry for the boy she had come to respect.

“What do you mean?” Barbara asked. Her body shook as she wavered, legs unsteady as her earlier adrenaline fled and her body suddenly remembered countless hours of medical work with no rest or food in between.

Gently, Walter gathered her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin and cradling her against his chest. Heart heavy, he turned his gaze to the still-dark sky. “ _She_ is still out there,” he hissed, eyes flashing. “The Pale Lady. Merlin has failed in his errand.”

“But what about Jim?” Barbara exclaimed, voice rising in tenor as her agitation grew. She shifted in Walter’s arms, breaking free to rush to the doors, throwing caution to the wind and running out into the unnatural twilight. Walter followed close on her heels, Nomura as close behind as her injury would allow, and together the three of them stood peering out into the scarlet horizon in a vain attempt to determine what was taking place.

The world was eerily silent, all of the animals in Arcadia having long since flown the figurative coop and all of the humans having taken shelter. A warm wind whispered through the air, bearing the scent of smoke and stone and tainted with the sharp tang of blood. Distant shrieks rang out, hoarse yells and the clash of steel carrying across the land, borne by the breeze.

“Oh my,” Barbara’s hand rose to her mouth, the glint of a distant inferno reflecting off of her lenses. She knew Jim, her Jim, her baby boy who had gone and grown up when her back was turned, was over there in the midst of the fray. Her other hand clenched into a fist at her side and she bit her knuckle hard enough to draw blood, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought to stave off the surge of alarm that threatened to overwhelm her.

“He is fighting her,” Walter’s words were a whisper across the back of her neck, his cool stone hand claiming her bleeding one in a tight grip. He traded a serious look with Nomura as he pressed a kiss to Barbara’s knuckle. They both knew the likely outcome of such an altercation. 

Suddenly the earth roared, a silent quake rocketing through the ground. A few silent seconds passed--pure silence, where heartbeats resonate in ones head and the thrum of blood through the veins is the only echo of noise to be detected--and then the sky split open as a figure rose high in the sky.

“That’s—” Nomura gasped, green eyes going wide.

“Merlin!” Barbara finished, her exclamation as near an exultation as it could come. Her heart leapt to her throat. “Does that mean--?”

“We can only hope,” Walter murmured, watching as the distant figure of the wizard raised his tiny arms. Suddenly his eyes widened. “We have to get inside,” he barked, turning to Nomura. “Barbara, forgive me,” he added, dropping her hand like a hot coal and scooping up his injured friend, flying them to the safety of the hospital door. Depositing his armful against the wall, he ignored her cue to remain in the relative safety of the shade and returned to Barbara’s side—she still had not moved, gazing at the receding darkness in a valiant attempt to discern the outcome of the battle.

"Jim, what about Jim?" she kept asking, hands clasped at her heart. "We have to go to him!"

"And we shall," Walter promised, seizing her hands and clasping them tightly to his stone chest. "We shall Barbara." He looked with no small amount of trepidation at the sky, which was rapidly becoming a steady cyan as the Eternal Night faded. "Perhaps under the cover of slightly more darkness, though?" he asked, slowly drawing them back toward the hospital as the sun inched back out into the sky.

"Walter Strickler!" Barbara exclaimed, glancing from the Changeling to the sunlight and back and immediately latching on to the problem. She spun, sweeping off her long doctor's coat, and held it high above their heads, Walter bowing low to accommodate the garment. "You ridiculous man--why did you come back out here when you were already under cover?" She marched him back toward the entrance to the hospital, where Nomura was snickering into her hand.

"Because he is a fool in love," the other woman chortled, leaning against the brick in a pose of feigned nonchalance. "A hopeless romantic well-read in the art of love but with no practical application." She hissed as Walter glared, then dissolved into more laughter as he shrugged and slid the coat back around Barbara's shoulders.

"Perhaps I am," he consented, "but at least  _I_ am not in the dog house for breaking my stitches."

Rolling her eyes skyward, Barbara grabbed one of each of their arms, her pale human hands stark against green and fuchsia. "Inside, the both of you," she ordered. "We'll get you seen to  _again_ , Nomura, and Walter you can just sit down for a minute, I know you're exhausted, and then as soon as it's dark enough we'll--" The chime of a cell phone cut her off, and she swore, releasing her captives and diving into the pocket of her scrubs to retrieve the device, nearly dropping it in her haste. "It's Jim!!" she exclaimed, thumbing the screen. "He made it!! They all made it!!" Her voice shook with relief, and she sagged back against Walter, who caught her with an arm about her waist, holding her close. "He...did he...send a selfie?" She swore again, throwing her hands skyward and nearly clocking Walter in the chin. "A  _selfie._ He and his friends risk their lives and potentially their  _souls_ fighting the forces of evil and they find the time to take _selfies?!"_ She stalked off toward the ER, muttering indecipherably to herself. 

"You two--" she paused and spun on her heel to point at Walter and Nomura, "with me. Don't think you're getting out of here  _that_ easily. Nomura, you're still injured, and Walt, don't think I didn't see you favoring that wing earlier, Mister." She continued toward the emergency room in a whirl of white and blue and red, a one-woman storm hell bent on distracting herself until she was able to see her son.

Trailing behind her, attempting to look as meek as two seven-plus-foot half-trolls could, Walter and Nomura exchanged a quiet smile. 

"I think--" Walter began, his gaze tender as he followed the doctor's path across the lobby.

"That everything might actually be alright?" Nomura finished, a look of outright  _fondness_ in her eyes as she thought about all of these strange humans who had stumbled into her path. "Yeah, me too." She nodded toward Barbara. "Though, if you don't get your ass into that ER after Dr. Lake, I think you might might be having to change your definition of 'alright'."

Walter's answering chuckle was lost to her as he swept along after Barbara, following well-established path already carved by his heart. Alright indeed. 

 


	2. Please Leave a Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walter receives a Summons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short, but I feel like if I go too far with this one it'll grow into it's own story--so I'll add the scene where Walter does meet everyone else farther along in the progress of this fic. For now, hope you enjoy another little "missing" excerpt from Season 3.

_Beep beep._

The obnoxious chime reverberated throughout the cavernous sewer, bouncing off of water-worn stone in a ringing echo. Walter groaned and shot his phone an irate glare, the device just far enough away were it sat on the spar chair for the name on the screen to be indecipherable. Not that Walter felt particularly inclined to check it anyway—after his failed attempt to reconnect with Barbara, he could not find it within himself to care all that much about anything.

Late as the hour was, he couldn’t imagine it was much of anything serious anyway. Only a few select individuals had his personal phone number, and he could count on one hand those who might even attempt to contact him at this point in his admittedly miserable experience—and the only one he had any inclination to answer certainly had no intention of _ever_ communicating with him again.

Realistically, he had been quite fortunate that she only slammed the door in his face. Faced with two potential realities, Walter couldn’t decide which encounter would have been worse—the Barbara Lake who had actually answered the door, believing him to be no better than her ex-husband and with no knowledge of troll-kind, or the Barbara Lake he secretly wished could exist, the one who knew the truth of everything and believed him so much worse.

His phone chirp again and he growled outright, eyes flashing golden.

“Whatever it is,” he snapped, nudging the other chair farther from his chosen perch, crossing his arms and tipping his head back to rest against the cool (albeit slimy) stone. Technically speaking, his old apartment remained unoccupied and leased in his name, he having paid the rent months in advance just in case of some such occasion. However, lately—and even more so after recent events—he felt rather unworthy of assuming the humanity that would be required to occupy his old abode. Instead, he exiled himself to the sewers in a wave of self-disgust and loathing.

His phone went off for the third time, this time a trilling ring, and Walter jumped to his feet, eyes flaming, the chair clattering tot he ground as he rose. “That’s _it!.”_ he exclaimed, reaching for the device, as yet unsure whether he intended to hurl it against the wall or simply silence it.

Before he could make either mood, his eyes shifted down and his mind focused long enough to take in the screen. Walter nearly dropped the phone in shock, Barbara’s face staring up at him from the photo ID he had never been able to bring himself to delete.

“Barbara,” he gasped, tossing the phone in the air in his surprise, juggling it from hand to hand as his mind turned to an incoherent mess of static. Did he _answer_ it? She couldn’t possibly have _intended_ to call him, it had to be in error—she had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

The phone silenced, screen going black, and Walter closed his eyes in defeat at the lost opportunity.

He stared down at the black screen with blank eyes, thoughts bent on the silent mobile, hoping against all odds for it to light up with a voicemail notification. His green eyes widened at the thought, brows contracting as he realized he had no idea what on earth he would do if she actually _did_ leave a message. What on _earth_ would he say if he were to call back?

However, the screen remained dark—to match his heart, he thought blackly—and he sighed, setting it aside along with all the dregs of his hope.

No sooner had his fingers let go than it lit up again in another ring, Barbara’s face cutting through the gloom of the sewers like a ray of sunshine through a storm. Walter swore, diving for the small device in an ungraceful lunge. Hands shaking, he gritted his teeth and swiped his thumb across the screen. With his heart pounding in his chest, he brought the phone up to his ear. “Hello?” he answered, hating how unsteady his voice sounded. Why was she calling him? Had she not expressed herself quite adamantly earlier? She certainly could not have lost her anger so quickly so as to have forgiven him.

“Walter Strickler,” Barbara’s voice rang out sternly from the speaker and he cringed—yes, definitely still angry.

“Barbara,” he replied, trying and failing miserably to smooth his tone into some semblance of calm nonchalance and despising how desperate and out of sorts he actually sounded, “What a pleasant—“

“Cut the crap, Walt,” Barbara ordered, and he could almost see her beautiful blue eyes narrowing to angry slits,” I know.”

Walter froze, blood thrumming in his ears as reality took on a hazy feel. He reared back from the phone and stared down in shock. “What?” he croaked, and if his voice sounded tremulous before, it was a veritable earthquake now. She _knew? What_ did she know? An endless realm of possibilities swam before him, and his mind floundered, unable to ford the overwhelming onslaught.

Barbara gave a gusty sigh, her breath echoing tinnily through the earpiece. “I know _everything_ ,” sh said simply. “Trolls exist, you are a Changeling, my son is the Trollhunter, and you have spent the better part of our relationship trying. to. _kill._ him.” Her voice grew louder and more irate with each word of the final clause as she released some of her anger and pent-up frustration.

Walter winced, free hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was in it for the long haul, then. “Erm,” he stammered, trying not to dig himself into a deeper hole—though when the original was the size of the Grand Canyon, that was all but impossible. “I…” he whirled through a series of potential things to say and then finally gave a resigned shrug and sagged against the dripping sewer wall. “Yes,” he said, “although by the end it was more of a halfhearted attempt to merely incapacitate him, and we actually parted on decent terms, and _now—“_

Cutting off his litany of gibberish with a pointed cough, Barbara clenched the phone so tightly her fingers brushed the keypad, sending a loud beep chiming on Walter’s end. “That’s enough, Walt,” she said, and he was suddenly struck by how _tired_ she sounded.

“Why did you call?” he asked frankly, staring down at his scuffed shoes and dirty pants.

The prolonged silence at the other end of the line told him that she did not precisely know the answer to that question either. “I’m inviting Toby’s Nana and Claire’s parents over—they have the right to know what responsibilities their children have taken on. I expect the kids home fairly soon as well, and…” she trailed off, hesitation evident in her tone. “I would like for you to be here, in case someone has questions I can’t answer.”

Walter’s heart flipped in his chest. She wanted him _there?_ In spite of all he had done, everything he had put her through, she still called him in her time of uncertainty? That had to mean _something_ , although he dared not try to define it so readily.

Her voice sharpened into an icy point. “If you try _anything_ to hurt those children, though, I will give Jim free reign to do whatever he needs to remove you from my house.”

Protest catching futilely in his throat, Walter nodded at the phone. “I understand,” he finally croaked, uncertain of how to handle the traitorous ember of hope that had embedded itself in his chest. “I’ll be there as soon as I clean up a bit.”

“Clean up—?” she sounded puzzled for a moment before deciding to ignore. “I will expect you, then. Hopefully the others believe me, but if they don’t…” she trailed off, almost guiltily this time, and he realized with a painful jolt that she was asking without actually _asking_ for him to reveal himself to the others as proof of her story if need be.

“You need not sound so hesitant, Barbara,” he counseled quietly, closing his eyes as he realized every word he spoke held nothing but the truth. “I will do anything you ask of me, anything you need.”

He could almost feel the relief rolling off of her. “Thank you, Walt,” she said, and for a moment it was almost like old times—barring the attack by Angor Rot, the necessary memory loss and prolonged amnesia, and the fresh recollection of his attempted homicide of her son, of course.

“Of course,” he answered. “I’ll be on my way shortly.” Before he had time to doubt himself, he hung up, leaving himself no time to say anything ridiculous or self-flagellating, or for her to remember some other long-suppressed reason why she should despise him rather than regard him with any iota of respect or affection.

The cavernous sewer suddenly seemed far less forbidding than it had prior to the moments before their conversation, less empty and less restricting. Sliding the phone into his coat pocket, Walter brushed the grim from his sleeve and pant hems as best he could before frowning at the remainder, smiling in muted satisfaction the rest simply melted away. Changeling magic occasionally _did_ have its benefits, albeit very rarely. Eyes gleaming, he strode from the empty sewer to "meet the parents", so to speak, and perhaps, just maybe, begin bridging the chasm his actions had forged. 


	3. Trade the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A closer look at Barbara and Walter's flight from the museum.

“You can fly?!” Barbara had countless other questions all clamoring for attention, fighting for place on the tip of her tongue, her eyes wide as she clung to Walter’s neck. However, the force of his takeoff had rendered her rather breathless, so her words hung unuttered on her tongue. Her heart pounded in her chest as she fought to control the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, awe and amazement and pure _panic_ all warring for her attention.

“I’m a mean swimmer, as well,” he growled into her hair, and she could all but feel his lips twist upward in a fanged grin as he pressed a light kiss to her temple, luminous gaze turning towards the horizon in concern.

_Where were your wings?_ she wanted to ask. _Why now, why not earlier? Are they always there?_ The questions screamed for release, her curiosity demanding immediate satisfaction but she knew now was not the time. She could hear the shrieks of the Stalklings behind them, teeth bared and eyes flaming as they swooped and dove in hot pursuit of the Changeling and his cargo.  Cool evening air kissed Barbara's bared skin, her arms erupting into goosebumps as they rose in altitude above the clouds. She cast the sensation from her mind, her anxiety toward their current situation an excellent distraction from the cold. 

And, blurred though the world was without her glasses, rapid as her heart was beating with her fear, Barbara could not help but marvel at the breathtaking beauty of their flight as the sky spread out before them. The clouds were pillowy footprints beneath them, the horizon sprawled out around them in an infinite, inky canvas. The silvery moon loomed large and luminous before them, a scattering of icy stars splattered out around it. Taking in their rather indistinct edges, Barbara swore up and down that she would go digging for her contact lenses should they survive this and she be allowed the opportunity of another flight.

“Walt,” she gasped, as they dipped lower, feet skiing the tops of the clouds, “Can we lose them?” She chanced a look to his face and was not heartened by what she saw. His teeth were bared in fierce grimace, eyes gleaming with raw panic and a slashing gleam of terror—-for _her_ , not for himself, the cant of his head indicated—as they were driven further from the museum with every beat of his great wings.

“Unlikely,” he bit off, shaking his horned head in an uncharacteristic show of his frustration. “Once they set their sights on their prey, they pursue them until they catch them or—“ Though he bit off the words before he could finish, Barbara could read the unspoken alternative quite clearly in the way he clung to her, his strong troll heart beating ferociously beneath her palm.

“Lose them in the woods!” she cried, burying her face in his chest and refusing to look behind them. Sh could feel the air change as they descended, swooping lower and shooting between a pair of low-growing trees. 

“Doctor’s orders,” he agreed, ducking as a branch passed inches from his face and feeling Barbara’s shaky laugh against his neck.

Though Barbara kept her eyes closed, her hearing was acute as ever and she listened with trepidation to the swoosh of air rushing past, the high-pitched, otherworldly shrieks of their pursuers, and the steady beat of Walter’s wings pulsing in time with the rapid thrum of his heart and his deceptively even breaths. A dull thud and particularly enraged snarl behind them told her that at least one of their adversaries had been eliminated.

Barbara chanced a glance behind them, blue eyes squinting over Walter’s shoulder to try to pick out the remaining dark forms of the Stalklings against the night sky.

“At least two still with us,” she reported, arms tightening around his neck. 

Hands flexing around her waist, Walter scraped his claws lightly across Barbara’s shirt in an aggravated cadence. “I’m going lower,” he decided, angling slightly and rocketing through the canopy. Barbara’s stomach churned as they corkscrewed around corners and executed loops the likes of which amusement parks could only dream. 

Suddenly Walter swore, and Barbara’s eyes flew open just in time to see him strike a particularly low-hanging bench and send them careening to the ground. “ _No!_ her heart screamed, even as her head connected with the ground, glasses clattering to toe forest floor just beyond her reach. _Not like this, not when I’ve just gotten him back._

Pain blossomed from her temple, radiating outward, a wave of nausea and a sweeping tide of nothingness roaring along behind it. Barbara’s eyes fluttered as she fought it, her arm tightening around Walter’s, his crumpled form curved around her, protecting her even in unconsciousness. She reached toward his face, instinctively craving comfort through contact, but her hand wavered and fell limply to the ground before it could reach its target.

The ground beneath her shuddered with the impact of approaching feet, causing Barbara's head to throb even more and blackness to flower across her vision. With a light groan and a final, helpless glance toward Walter's unmoving form, she sank into the welcoming haze of unconsciousness.

—

It was dark when Barbara awoke, the air cool and stagnant against her skin. There was a bitter, tangy taste on her tongue, and a quick exploration with shaking fingers told her that she’d bitten her lip in the course of her fall. Her next thought was that her head hurt, the throbbing brought on by its collision with the ground in no way alleviated by time passed. Grimacing, she forced herself to her feet, using the bars of the iron cage around her to lever herself upright.

The cavern around her was dark, the only light coming from a faintly-glowing gem mounted above her head. It cast an eerie lavender glow across the surrounding craggy rocks, and Barbara strained her eyes trying to pick out details among the dark cave in which she was contained, looking for any sign of Walter.

Her futile search yielded no reward, and she sank back against her cage with a sigh. “Walt,” she murmured, “where are you?” She refused to believe he was anything other than alright, despite the violent circumstances of their capture. She denied it, cast out any thought of a reality in which he had not also survived. There was too much at stake already for him to be taken from her again so soon.

How long she sat in the dark in that cage she could not say, arms looped through the rusty iron bars with the horrendous silent _nothingness_ surrounding her. Dimly, she could hear muted voices nearby, but they were muffled by several feet of thick rock and stone and though she strained her ears she could not pick out any detail of what was being said.

Suddenly, with a great, creaking groan, the cage lurched forward, swinging back and forth before sliding along its line toward what appeared to be a solid rock wall. Barbara shrieked, flinching back against the ancient bars of her cage, scrabbling for purchase as she rocketed along. She passed through the wall as though by magic, muted darkness giving way to a brilliant glare of a much larger, well-lit cavern that opened up above her.

Without warning, the cage jolted up like some sort of demented elevator, and the rocks gave way to a sprawling room set before an immense purple gem to match the one above her head. Distantly, she heard Walt calling her name, his voice frantic. She cried out his name in return, her relief at finding him alive dimmed by the markedly dangerous scenario in which they found themselves. The cage swung to a sudden stop, the force of it sending Barbara slamming against the front, her eyes streaming as she blinked away the sudden onslaught of light.

Glaring in defiance as a meaty troll arm swung open the rusty hinges and hauled her out, she kept any fear or weakness out of her eyes, schooling her face into an expression of indifference. She would not give such people the satisfaction of knowing just how frightened she truly was. The troll holding her cast her down roughly against the ground, and she winced as her knees met hard rock, the impact jarring enough to knock her glasses from her face. Captured by trolls she could handle; captured by trolls and virtually _blind_ was another matter entirely, and Barbara ran her hands frantically on the ground in front of her until her questing fingers grasped her glasses.

Once she reclaimed her vision, she almost wished that she had not. Before her stood an immense troll, hatred burning in his vicious eyes. He slammed his great sword into the rock beside her, the blade piercing stone like butter as chips of broken rock splintered against her exposed skin. This had to be Gunmar. She scowled and stood her ground, refusing to cower before the being who had brought harm and ruin to so many she cared about. He lowered his massive head, _sniffing_ her, and despite her best intentions to remain stoic Barbara could not help but recoil slightly.

Even as she was insulted, threatened and derided, she remained aware of _everything_ around her—the massive troll in front of her, the armed minions surrounding them, the great gem looming over them all, and Walter, standing behind her, hands clenching and unclenching as he fought the despair of his helplessness. She knew what this was about, had listened enough to recent discussions to be well aware of Morgana, and the staff.

They were going to use her, use Walter, to free the sorceress. 

She knew that even as Gunmar withdrew, sword pointing to Walter as his mouth curved into a vicious smirk. She knew, too, that Walter would do it. He was too human, too invested in their cause now— _too in_ love _with you,_ her knowing little voice murmured as a vice gripped her heart. He would sacrifice anything for her, and everyone in that cavern knew it.

Still, she had to try. “No, Walt, don’t do it!” she pleaded, reaching out for him, hands clasping his as she stared earnestly into his troubled eyes. She could feel him shaking, slight tremors unnoticeable to anyone not touching him, fear and defiance and resignation all tucked within him and struggling to burst free. She shook her head, ducking her eyes.

He gazed at her for one long moment before spinning to face Gunmar, face set. “If I activate the staff,” he asked, trying and failing to sound confident, “you’ll let us go?”

Barbara could feel the delighted malice oozing from the being before them as he smiled darkly. “I’ll let the _woman_ go,” the great troll declared.

Icy terror shot through Barbara’s heart at his words. “No!” she cried. “Walt, please don’t! My life is not worth the world!” 

He tensed, his hands flipping to curve around her wrist, thumb stroking along the base of her palm. “It is to me,” he told her, and it was a promise and a declaration and a surrender all at once, his green eyes brimming with a multitude of emotions.

No sooner did the words cross his lips than Barbara was caught up by Angor Rot, his arm curving around her neck in a viselike grip as he hauled her off to the side. Gunmar ushered Walter to the center of the room to where the great fuchsia gem hung down nearly to the cavern’s floor. She tried one last time to dissuade Walter, calling to him to stop, but he ignored her, turning with resignation to the indentation in the floor. “May the world forgive me,” he uttered, face set in determination, eyes burning with all the things he had never had the opportunity to tell her, “for without you there _is_ no world.”

 

She bit back a gasp, flinching in the arms of the troll who held her, struggling fiercely as she attempted to get away. The cavern flashed green, Walt’s voice echoing throughout the vast space as he spoke the incantation. “Don’t look, Barbara,” he commanded, as the staff let out a violent green light. There was something in his voice that made her immediately obey, and she shrank back, closing her eyes and watching from behind her eyelids as emerald light arced across the room. Suddenly the pressure against her neck was gone, and she scrambled to find purchase agains the rocky floor, feet scrabbling against gravel that had not been there before.

Then, amazingly, Walter was at her side, helping her up and directing her away, both of them sprinting full-force away from the Heartstone. Barbara’s mind was racing, hundreds of thoughts tumbling through her head as they ran. He would sacrifice the world, sacrifice everything, for _her._ This man loved her enough to give up everything to save _her._ She yelped as the trolls behind them grew closer, following hot on Walter’s heels as he led them to a great curving stone staircase.

“Seriously?” she asked, almost exasperated at how inconsistent Trollish architecture was proving to be.

There was a flash of green and then Walter was scooping her up in his arms and flying them up to the top of the stones. She could feel his heart pounding beneath his stone skin, its rapid thrumming matching that of her own beat for beat. Barbara allowed herself a moment to relax in his arms, relishing the facade of safety and security, before they were back at their escape attempt. Walter finished drawing the doorway just as their pursuers arrived and rocketed them out into the human world, flashing back to his human just as they crossed back into the sunlight.

Barbara braced herself for impact, eyes closed, as they fell hard toward the cement. However, the crash she was expecting never came, her fall cushioned by Walter as he took the brunt of their impact.

He grunted, the air flying out of his lungs, arms never relaxing their secure grip around her waist and back, refusing to surrender her even in his discomfort.

“Walt,” Barbara cried, hugging him tightly and burying her head in his neck. “Are you alright?”

Patting her back in silent agreement, he rolled them over and helped her to her feet, wincing as he agitated pulled muscles and newly-acquired bruises and scrapes. He opened his mouth to say—something, he couldn’t know what—but was interrupted by the arrival of Toby and Claire, and then they were all off again to get to Jim.

The kids took off on their scooters, staying far enough ahead to give the two adults some privacy, and Barbara spared a moment from their headlong sprint toward her house to stop and pull Walter onto a side street.

“Barbara?” he asked, puzzled as she gripped his coat and raised herself up on her tiptoes to peer into his face. “We have to get to Jim, Merlin’s up to _something—“_

She nodded, face set and seriously. “I know, and believe me we are going to get to my son as fast as we can—but I also trust him to stay alive and safe until we arrive.” She freed one hand from its grip on his lapel to trace the line of his chin, trailing her hand up along the curve of his cheekbone to card it through the fine white hairs behind his ear. “Walt,” she breathed, “you put the world at risk for me.” Her blue eyes were conflicted, body shaking slightly as the adrenaline of the last few hours began to slowly leech from her body.

Walter clenched his jaw, expecting admonishment and rejection, knowing full and well that his actions had brought even greater risk to the world, to her son. He was therefore thoroughly taken aback when she pulled him in to a scorching kiss, lips sliding against his with unchecked passion, nails scratching lightly against his neck as she pressed him into the brick wall of the alley.

“You,” she breathed, drawing back and shaking her head as if to clear it of confusion, “No one—I’ve never been worth that, am _not_ worth that.” She held up a hand to forestall his coming objection, pressing another sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But you make me _feel_ like I am,” she continued, seizing his right hand and placing it over her rapidly-beating heart. “This is yours,” she told him seriously, “no matter what form you take and no matter what the future holds.” Darting in close again, she pressed herself against him in a tight hug, then drew back and slugged him in the arm. “But don’t you _dare_ think that you are off the hook for refusing to sacrifice me, either," she told him, peering up at him through narrowed eyes. "There is always another way."

Shaking his head slowly, Walter took his turn to step in close, brushing a kiss across her temple and pressing his nose into her hair. "Sometimes the other way is not an option I can live with," he confessed, hand tracing idle patterns across her back. "Sacrifice you, only to have Morgana break free anyway? It was an inevitable outcome, she would have found a way with or without my assistance." She could feel him shake his head. "As awful as circumstances currently are, I have more now than any other time in the last millennium. I'll not part with that lightly." He drew back and kissed her again, a light caress at each corner of her mouth before setting firmly on her lips. 

They moved in unison for a long moment, Walter's chapped lips sliding against Barbara's smoother skin, before he drew away with a sigh. "Time is of the essence," he murmured, staring up at the deceptively bright sunlight with a furrowed brow. "Morgana is coming, and I fear that something is happening with Jim that is beyond our control--we need to be there for him." He squeezed Barbara's hand and drew her back out into the street. "Let's go save your son, my dear." 

They took off down the road, feet pounding into the sidewalk, thoughts bent on reaching Barbara's home and finding Jim. Meanwhile, behind them, creeping tendrils of darkness snaked up and along buildings, casting inky black shadows everywhere they stretched, dark portents of the despair that was yet to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for letting it go so long without an update! Real life tends to kick in sometimes, and I had a rather busy end of the summer. However, I'm hoping to get back on with slightly more frequent updates (I won't go so far as to say CONSISTENT updates..) for you all to enjoy.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented or left kudos! It always makes my morning to get the notifications that people are reading and enjoying this little fic.


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